Convenience of Touch
by Nightmyr
Summary: Karen needs an easy nostress job to make ends meet while she finishes her college degree. She thinks she’s found one as a convenience store clerk, but the store is under the ‘protection’ of the local mob boss. How will Karen manage her own stress as well


Title: Convenience of Touch  
Author: Nightmyr  
Summary: Karen needs an easy no-stress job to make ends meet while she finishes her college degree. She thinks she's found one as a convenience store clerk, but the store is under the 'protection' of the local mob boss. How will Karen manage her own stress as well as that of the mob thug that comes around once a week?  
Rating: R  
Status: Work in Progress  
Started: August 11, 2003  
Updated: September 16, 2003  
Author's comment: I started writing out this idea quick and easy. I wanted to get it out of my head and over with because I was not particularly fond of the movie. But, as I wrote, I became fond of the characters, and the story was getting positive reviews, so I decided to rewrite it with a little more insight into the characters. All feedback is welcome and appreciated.

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**Convenience of Touch**  
Chapter 1 – Week One

The job was boring, but it paid. The magazine was boring, but it was the only distraction at hand. And the melodramatic song about rain, tears, and a break-up by way of an answering machine, would make anyone wish the small portable radio hadn't lost its antenna and could receive more than one station's signals clearly. Karen had been working at the street corner convenience store for a week now and every day was as dreary as the last. She realized, though the situation had many downsides, it did have a few perks.

After seeing the handwritten 'help wanted' on a piece of torn cardboard, when the bus she'd been riding on had passed by the front store window, she'd gotten off at the next stop and immediately applied for the post. Even though it was below her credentials, it was what she needed. She'd been searching for an easy day job so she could pay for - and attend - the few night classes she took at the community college. And this position was the answer to her prayers. All she had to do was stack the shelves, keep the floors clean, and take care of the cash register; leaving her with plenty of free time to do her school work when no one was in the shop.

Another advantage that Karen really loved about her job was that the owner, a greasy slime ball who held the 70's as a way of life and not an over-and-done-with decade, never came by to check up on (annoy) her. He'd been operating this place, doing the tedious job himself, until he suffered a self-diagnosed nervous breakdown. Karen couldn't fathom how, since this job was the least stressful one she'd ever had.

This morning, when she'd opened up the store, she'd found an envelope on the counter. Sure that she hadn't forgotten anything the day before, she'd quickly inspected it. Seeing her name on it had surprised her even though she couldn't have guessed whom else it would have been for. Looking inside, she'd seen a substantial amount of money, and a note from her boss. The message was brief: IKaren, give the money to the mean motherfucker who comes asking for it today./IAn icy chill had gone up her spine and goosebumped her skin as alarming scenarios had blazed through her mind; a big tattooed biker holding a gleaming knife to her face, a disfigured man in a trench coat hiding a sawed-off hunting rifle aimed at her stomach…

The day had worn on as usual and no mug-shot faced characters had come around to smile to the store's security camera. So by 5 o'clock, an hour before closing, Karen was relaxed and leafing through a teenybopper magazine (one that had been left behind by a kid in the midst of an after-school candy escapade) when the ringing bell above the door brought her attention upwards. She expected to see a housewife come to buy cooking oil at the last minute for tonight's supper preparation, or an elderly man come to buy cigarettes so that when he woke up in the middle of the night and settled himself in front of the TV, his still-cancer-free-miracle-lungs would have a fresh pack to cough through. But what she saw caused her breath to catch and her pulse to spike.

He walked towards her with grace and purpose, and the scowl on his face spoke more of intent than intimidation. His shirt, tight against his muscled chest and arms, let her admire the beauty of the man's physique. His skin was naturally bronzed and appeared smooth to the touch. His hair consisted of a-day-or-two old stubble. And an extremely short - see shadow of a - goatee framed his full lips. He made her wish for summer. Wish for a chance to see him in less of a shirt and more of a sweat.

He stood before her on the other side of the counter, his I-take-without-mercy black eyes boring into her I'm-eager-to-please-you green ones as his voice, bringing forth memories of thunder, asked, "So what have you got for me?"

"Eh-excuse me?" Karen stuttered, both under the effect of the voice and the oddness of the question.

He speared her with an instantaneous look of aggravation but it was just as quickly replaced with comprehension. "You're new."

"Yeah…" She let it trail off with a questioning lilt.

"Did your boss happen to leave you with any money today?" He asked in a manner that implied he was willing to take this step by step.

"Yes." She smiled innocently.

"Can I have it?"

"Depends." The smile turned mischievous.

"On what?" Reacting to her playfulness, his lips turned up slightly on the left.

"If you're the one I'm supposed to give it to."

He nodded emphatically and declared, "Yes, I am." His amusement only seemed to grow, but he held it in check. Karen couldn't believe it. This gorgeous hunk of a man was the Mean Motherfucker she was meant to fear?!

She reached for the envelope she'd placed under the counter and perfunctorily handed it to him. He opened it immediately and mentally calculated the amount. Any trace of merriment he might have had disappeared as his mind settled onto business.

"This all of it?" He asked, straight faced, as he casually stuffed the money in his pocket.

"Yeah." Karen replied with her fingers twitching in nervous reaction upon the counter.

"I know. Just checking." He flashed a smug smile. Karen felt lost in the face of his transient temperament. And it must have shown, for he half-heartedly tried to reassure her, "Relax. When I get what I want, things go fine."

"Right." She was glad with herself for sounding as though she were agreeing to simple common sense.

He stood there silently, looking down at her, until he seemed to come to a decision and knocked his knuckles on the countertop, "Right". He turned to go, and announced over his shoulder, "See you next week."


End file.
